


A Scar For Every Beat of Your Heart

by Whoareyou0000



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Pendragon Saves the Day (Merlin), BAMF Arthur, Caring Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), M/M, Merlin Has Magic (Merlin), Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), POV Merlin (Merlin), Parent Gaius (Merlin), Pining Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Pining Merlin (Merlin), Post-Season/Series 03, Prince Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Merlin (Merlin), Soft Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Worried Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), not suicide though, self-harming Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27307480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoareyou0000/pseuds/Whoareyou0000
Summary: When Arthur nearly dies saving Merlin’s life, the warlock goes to dangerous extremes to perfect his healing magic. Arthur’s guiding hand leads him back from the brink of self-destruction and provides a safer solution. When all appears lost, love prevails.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 268





	A Scar For Every Beat of Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or the characters within. Warning for descriptive self-harm. Mention of injured animals, but all are healed. 
> 
> Author’s Note: This is a story about self-experimentation in magic-not attempted suicide. Merlin in no way wants to die. However, it does involve descriptive instances of self-harm, so please take care not to read this fic if that is a trigger for you.
> 
> Love yourselves, friends, and know that, though Merlin is misguided here, Arthur will help him find his way back.

Merlin may have been born magic, but it didn’t always come naturally. 

Sorcery, according to Gaius, could be defined as a form of metaphysical science made up of about seventy percent practice and thirty percent circumstance. For magic was itself a living organism at the mercy of feelings and limitations. It bowed to no man, and certainly no boy too reckless to recognize his place in such a sacred partnership. 

Only through listening to Gaius speak of the physicians who practiced on their own bodies, though, testing their theories and abilities against potentially deadly ailments, did Merlin began to understand. He could rely on his natural abilities and be a mediocre sorcerer, or he could push himself further until he became the protector that Arthur needed. 

Self-experimentation was not entirely foreign to the young warlock. In fact, it had started long before his arrival in Camelot. Once, while attempting to shrink his ears to a somewhat less embarrassing size, he turned his hair the color of ripe elderberries for an entire moon cycle. Twenty-eight days of teasing and bullying from the other children, minus Will who dyed his own hair in solidarity, and he’d woken up to his natural jet-black locks. He never did figure out why or how. 

Still, he kept practicing, kept experimenting, with the hope that he could master his craft. 

Now, tasked with protecting the future king from seemingly constant threat of death, Merlin delved into the art of healing. He tried the simplest spells first. He fixed a rabbit’s broken leg with the crook of his finger. Then he repaired a head injury in a stunned bird. However, sick and injured animals rarely appeared near the kingdom and he quickly ran out of subjects. Unwilling to purposely cause harm to an innocent, Merlin turned to his own body. 

It started small, the tiniest of cuts on the tips of his fingers. These he mended easily enough. When the spells demanded more serious wounds, Merlin moved to the discreet parts of his body. He pocketed a butcher knife from the kitchen while gathering Arthur’s breakfast and hid it beneath his tunic. Later that night, he carved a gash into his upper arm. It bled like nothing he’d ever done before. His newest healing spell repaired the tissue and skin but left a scar. With his execution less than perfect, he had to try it again. Finally, a massive gash in his thigh nearly left him unconscious before he could heal himself. Enunciating that spell, focusing on the syllables and words instead of the darkness creeping into his peripheral vision, managed to heal the wound as well as the mark. 

Merlin had leveled up. 

Satisfied with his abilities for the moment, Merlin allowed his body a reprieve. He began spending less of his time in front of books and more in front of Arthur. Their teasing grew friendlier and he felt Arthur’s eyes on him in an intense and wonderfully confusing way. The prince’s smile, the one that knocked the breath out of Merlin, appeared frequently, and often accompanied a hand on his arm or a ruffle of his hair. They spent entire nights talking, laughing, playing like boys. Merlin had never been happier.

Then, while on a hunting trip, bandits charged the royal camp. The knights took out three of the horde’s toughest and Merlin aimed a massive tree branch at the head of a weaker man. This prevented him from noticing the sword making its way directly towards his neck. It was Arthur who made himself a human shield and downed that last bandit before he could slice Merlin’s artery. It was Arthur who took a near-mortal wound to his side, landing him in bed for over two weeks. 

It was Merlin who could not heal Arthur, only keeping him alive long enough to get him to Gaius. Merlin who cried into his prince’s rising chest. Merlin who then decided that he could not abide such a weakness on his part. He needed to be stronger if he were to ensure Arthur’s completed destiny. He had to be sure that he could protect Arthur in every situation. 

So, Merlin consulted Kilgharrah. He learned of a healing magic book so powerful that it had to be hidden deep within the Valley of the Fallen Kings. At first chance he made the journey, with Gwaine by his side for his own reasons, and discretely dug up a text so potent that it vibrated during the entire voyage home. 

Once safely in his room, he dived in with renewed motivation. 

Meanwhile, Arthur requested Merlin’s presence often. Those orders went unfollowed and without punishment. The prince had seemingly gone soft around the servant, though he would adamantly deny it when confronted. The tempting invitations, and the creases of disappointment in the blonde man’s face, stirred all sorts of feelings in Merlin’s gut. 

He still found excuses to slip away, of course, because the next fatal blow could come to his prince at any moment and he could not bear to lose the man he’d grown to love. 

Merlin observed the knights in battle, actually listened when Arthur described the strategies involved in killing a man. Where did Arthur point his sword, his mace, his spear? Which nooks within the abdomen contained the most organs and arteries? He observed as Arthur practiced his sword fighting on dummies and poked those spots on his own body, memorizing the exact points of penetration. 

It took hundreds of rounds of practice on animal hide and one successful resuscitation of a mortally wounded deer, much to the hunting party’s disappointment. Finally, he was ready.

He left Arthur with an unanswered order...

“Merlin, stay.” 

…and shut himself in Gaius’ quarters with a newly sharpened dagger and a plan. 

Gaius had been called away to treat an outbreak in an outlying village, giving Merlin plenty of space to practice. The golden book opened before him, looping words splayed across the disintegrating page. He perched upon a bench, legs planted firmly on the floor, and took four deep breaths. His heart beat hungrily. His pulse sounded loudly in his ears. Fear touched his senses, but he swallowed it down painfully.

A warlock commanded his fear, he told himself. A warlock saved lives. 

He only had to pass one more test. 

Slowly, Merlin unbelted his tunic and let it slide from his shoulders. Then, taking the dagger in his two hands, he set the tip in that little nook on his middle left side. He felt the blood pumping just beneath the skin. In seconds he could be lifeless. The thought made him tremble, even reconsider, and yet the memory of Arthur bleeding on the forest floor pushed him onward. 

The spell would work. 

He just had to believe in his power.

He took three adrenaline-filled breaths, closed his eyes, and pulled the dagger straight back, seeking momentum and strength with a firm grip and steady arms. Time halted. All noise faded to the thundering pulse in his ears. He tasted salt. The razor tip hit his bare skin with burning agony and then a comforting warmth wrapped his fingers and the blade retreated with a strength not his own. 

Merlin’s eyes burst open to see Arthur pulling back on the dagger’s handle. Those familiar blue eyes shined with unshed tears beneath messy blonde strands. Nostrils flared with muted fury. Defined biceps flexed and tightened against Merlin’s pathetic resistance. 

The spell broken, Merlin constricted his fingers around the metal handle and Arthur’s hands tightened their grip in response. This quickly turned into a game of brute strength of which Merlin lacked. He held on still, even as his fingers ached and burned. 

“Drop it now. I order you!”

Merlin responded through clenched teeth.

“Arthur, you don’t understand.” 

“Do you think me a fool?” Merlin gained an inch. Arthur immediately took it back. “I know that you are a sorcerer and I have for some time. I heard you trying to heal me in the woods. You're my servant, my best friend, and…and I will not allow you to take your life.”

Merlin shook his head, tears now dripping down his face and onto his tunic. 

“I don’t wish to take my life. I wish to protect yours.” The dagger’s tip touched his skin again, earning a hiss of pain. “Please Arthur, I need this to learn, to be better, so that I can save you.” 

“No!” It happened in a flash. One of Arthur’s hands left the dagger and clamped upon a nerve in Merlin’s bare forearms. His muscles relaxed. His fingers released. Then Arthur removed the dagger and threw it across the room, where it landed embedded in a wooden beam. “I will not take the chance of losing you, Merlin. I cannot.”

Merlin slid smoothly off the bench and landed upon the stone floor. Shaky hands covered his eyes as he furiously rubbed his salty tears into his burning skin. The bench creaked beside him and then a large hand landed on his head and pulled him down until he rested upon Arthur’s lap. Merlin went along, his body suddenly drained of all energy. 

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I failed you.” 

A single gentle kiss warmed Merlin’s temple. 

“You did no such thing, Merlin.” Then fingers wove through his hair with the slightest pressure. “I am privileged to have a caring, devoted, and honest servant. Even if you are a dollop head.” 

Merlin exhaled a quick laugh, releasing a trail of unshed tears. He traced his fingers over Arthur’s thighs, the silk of his night pants as comforting as the image of skin beneath. 

“I have not been honest. Not about my magic.” 

“I can hardly blame you for keeping such a secret.” Then his hands trailed to Merlin’s shoulder and he carefully turned him to face up. The blue eyes brimmed with exhaustion and something else. “Merlin, I will never tell my father. I certainly will never allow harm to come to you. I admit I don’t understand much about magic, my father would never allow me to learn, but if _you_ are magic, then I cannot believe that it is anything but good and right."

Merlin could not stop his growing smile. He covered Arthur’s hand with his own. The prince then brushed the scar on his upper arm, frowning until his forehead creased. 

“Merlin, these scars. How did you get them?” 

The warlock’s cheeks warmed. He looked down to his torso with growing embarrassment. 

“I made them with my own hands.” He breathed rapidly. “After you were injured, when I couldn’t heal you, I thought that I had lost my abilities. The only way that I could train in my craft, learn how to save you, was by healing a human body.” 

There came a sharp intake of breath and Arthur’s fingers traced the jagged map around Merlin’s rapidly beating heart. Merlin curled in on himself and turned away. 

“You hurt yourself for me?” Arthur’s face tightened and his throat bobbed. “Merlin, you are never to do this again.” 

Merlin sat up, looking away from his prince to hide his utter hopelessness. He hugged his bare chest, now cold in the absence of Arthur, and reached for his tunic. He spoke through the material as it slid over his head and covered his imperfections. 

“If I am not strong in my magic, then I am nothing. Not to you or anyone else.” 

A large, calloused hand found its way to Merlin’s cheek, turning his face to the far right. Then Arthur’s lips met Merlin’s in a quiet, loving, kiss. The servant froze at first, his body wracked with waves of intense warmth, and then he responded. Their lips dragged lazily over each other, noses nuzzling. A few whispered breaths later they separated with a quiet intake of air. When Merlin’s vision focused again, he saw blue eyes dilated and devastatingly soft. 

“No Merlin, you are everything. Magic or not, we need you alive and whole.” Strong hands pulled his nimble fingers from within the sleeves and curled around them protectively. “Gaius needs his son, the knights need their brother, Guinevere needs her friend, and I…I need my brave, hardheaded servant beside me, making me laugh on my darkest days and pushing me to become the man I’m meant to be, the man I wish to be for him.” 

Merlin’s head shot up at the last admission, lips parted in awe. Arthur’s next question, spoken in a rougher, deeper tone, took his breath away. “If he’ll do me the honor of courting him, that is.” 

Merlin couldn’t contain his own smile, his body tingling from a spell that not even his own magic could rivel. “Does that mean I don’t have to wash your sweaty socks anymore?” 

Arthur matched his grin tooth for tooth. “Yes, well I suppose I will, rather unfortunately, have to replace you for the mundane tasks, if you agree to my offer.” He turned his attention back to Merlin’s hands, tracing the lines on his wrists. “You must first promise me that you will not hurt yourself again. If you need to practice your healing abilities, then we will find another way. Whatever it takes.” 

The near silence of Camelot’s darkened streets crept through the room’s window and into Merlin’s bones, alerting his nerves and prepping him for the next abrupt clatter that would shatter it all. Merlin blinked, averted his gaze, and spotted the knife, still embedded in the beam several paces away. Swallowing a growing lump in his throat, he countered. 

“There is no other way, Arthur.” 

The prince snorted a laugh. Merlin cocked his head and glared. 

“Well, _idiot,_ if you actually paid attention during the council meetings instead of ogling my backside, then you’d know otherwise.” Merlin gasped, raising one eyebrow in a perfect impression of Gaius. “There is talk of opening an infirmary in the lower town, a place for the sick and wounded who cannot access Gaius’ services when he must focus on the court. Now, we have yet to find ourselves a physician, but as you’ve been apprenticing with Gaius for some time, I can certainly convince my father and the court of your qualifications.” Arthur hesitated then, softening his hold on Merlin’s hands. “I assume that would put you in the position to discretely practice your healing on those who are already ill or injured.” 

Merlin promptly shook his head and pulled away. “If I fail, then another innocent life could be harmed. I can’t allow that, Arthur.” A reassuring touch melted the tension from his body and Arthur, as always, caught him before his fall. 

“You have skills beyond your magic. I’ve witnessed them myself. Use your hands when you can and use your magic when you must, just as I’ve seen you do in battle. You’re fully capable of healing, you already do it as a physician, you just need to learn how to combine your skills and do it as a sorcerer as well.” 

“You make it sound so easy.” Merlin leaned closer until their foreheads rested together, Arthur’s nightshirt clenched in his fingers. “I thought I was going to lose you, Arthur, and my powers abandoned me when I needed them the most. How can I ever trust them on anyone but myself again?” 

Arthur drew back just enough to swipe a single finger over Merlin’s cheek and whispered a curious thought. 

“Do you know the primary reason why knights fail in battle?” Merlin found himself the object of Arthur’s determined, instructive stare, a position utterly humbling. “They allow their emotions to override their training. May I suggest that you, being _madly in love_ with me, were so upset by my condition that your feelings hindered your abilities?” 

Merlin thought on that idea while gripping onto Arthur’s nightshirt with white knuckles and decided that it would be worth looking into further. Still, he couldn’t allow Arthur’s head to get any bigger. He gave a smug smile and a teasing shake of his head. 

“Nah, couldn’t possibly be that.” Arthur scoffed. Merlin he cocked his head, bumping their noses along the way, and furrowed his brow. “When did you become considerably less of a cabbagehead?” 

Arthur snaked his arms around Merlin’s waist, an easy and comfortable fit. “I’m a prince, Merlin, and a trained knight. I observe far more than you realize.” 

Merlin side-eyed the prince and smirked, his cheeks heating. “My backside, for example?” 

“Well, it is hard to miss.” Arthur leaned in then, teasing a kiss and then backing away with a smirk. “So, will you accept my offer then?” 

Merlin rolled his eyes while adjusting the ties on Arthur’s nightshirt. It could have been their evening routine if not taking place on a cold, stone floor in the middle of the night. It dawned on Merlin how effortless it all felt, how this man could somehow fix everything with a smile and a touch. It couldn’t hurt to trust someone so naturally gifted in healing. 

“Yes, clotpole, for you I will. I am _madly in love_ with you, after all.” 

Arthur, of course, rolled his eyes. “ _Idiot._ ” 

They spent the rest of the night in Arthur’s quarters, away from any sharp objects. Merlin made promises that he fully intended to keep, ones that Arthur would heavily enforce with numerous full-bodied inspections, and they agreed to apprise Gaius of everything the next morning- as Arthur insisted that Merlin would need the support of his loving father. 

Then they spoke of their future as a king and a physician madly in love. 

A most surprisingly natural partnership. 


End file.
